


i'm a shepherd for you, i'll guide you through

by throats



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Open Relationships, ambiguous gender!harry, and lipstick, past harry/michael ok yeah, there's a french maid outfit ok, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throats/pseuds/throats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nick comes home to a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm a shepherd for you, i'll guide you through

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flaneuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaneuse/gifts).



Having a pop star for a quasi-non-boyfriend-boyfriend is sometimes the _absolute worst._ They’re allowed to see other people when Harry’s away and they do--Harry’s got that Michael Clifford bloke and Nick’s been in LA with a new lad for a while, but when he gets back to London it’s harder. Suddenly it becomes that’s where Harry blew him for the first time, too drunk on good whiskey, right there on the couch. Or it’s there’s Harry’s things on the lip of the sink. Sometimes having a pop star for a sometimes live-in fuckbuddy is the absolute worst. 

Having a pop star for a quasi-non-boyfriend-boyfriend is sometimes the _absolute best._ Like right now, for example.

The Breakfast Show has Nick getting up at the hour of Satan’s bumhole and if he didn’t love his job so much he’d quit because this is not the time anyone should ever be awake ever. But Finch, the doll he is, always comes in with enough coffee and enough cigarettes for him to make it through the show, even if it leaves him feeling rather like some sort of bath salt zombie. 

So usually, when he breezes into his flat he has a good shouting match with Thurston before passing out on his bed, fully clothed. But today it is very different.

Because when he walks in the door there’s _Harry bloody Styles_ dusting his kitchen counter. And he hasn’t got clothes on. Well, he does but--Nick’s not sure if one could actually call them _clothes._ There’s lots of lace involved. And are those garters?

Harry turns around and Nick lets out a breath. “Oh jesus fucking christ,” he says and he’s laughing but he’s also--he’s also getting hard in his jeans. Harry’s sheepish when he looks at him, as--he always is that cheeky git, and he’s got on a bloody _French maid costume._ His lips are done up the way Harry likes, sharp and red and pouty. He pops himself up on the counter and his skirt hitches up--he’s got on these lacy underthings, his cock peeking out, half-erect. 

Nick drops his bag by the door and finds himself slipping between Harry’s thighs, kissing him square on the mouth. Harry laughs into the kiss as Nick curls his tongue into Harry’s mouth. He pushes up the skirt (it’s so short, Nick’s not sure if he can even call it a skirt) of the costume to slip his hands around Harry’s ass. Fuck. 

Harry pulls back, breaking the kiss. “ _Allo_ ,” he says. And Nick shakes his head and kisses Harry again, this time his hand travels around Harry’s hip to fist his cock through the lace. “Your accent is _‘orrible_ ,” he says, breaking the kiss to bite Harry’s jaw. “How was Paris?”

Harry moans as Nick grabs the base of his cock. “Terrible. Can we go to bed now please?” Nick grins. He kind of likes Harry like this. (He really likes Harry like this; childlike and polite while his lips are red with lipstick and kiss-swollen, lacy panties already starting to soak with precome. He knows Harry likes it too--likes being the submissive, the one being told what to do.)

“No, I don’t think so,” he says, shrugging and Harry’s eyes go wide. He pumps Harry’s cock once and lets go. Harry’s pouting now. “Where d’you want me?”

Nick smiles again. “Let’s say here for a bit yeah?” he says, carding a hand through Harry’s curls. “You can clean your mess off the counter later.” Harry’s eyes go wider and he grins, his mouth stained cherry red.

“Okay,” he says, smiling and hooks his fingers into Nick’s belt loops, pulling him closer still before starting to work at the fly of his jeans. Nick watches Harry, watches him bite his lip, lipstick coming off on his teeth. He’s never been with anyone like Harry--never been with someone so kinky, really. And it’s not even that it’s a kinky really. It’s just that he’s Harry and Harry does things his own way. 

He rolls his head back and lets out a low moan as Harry’s fingers start to pump his cock, deft and long. “ _Harold_ ,” Nick murmurs and reaches to give Harry’s ass a long, slow squeeze. It makes Harry whimper and Nick grins, satisfied with that. “You’re bigger than Michael,” Harry mumbles as he works Nick’s cock and Nick kisses Harry then. It’s a huge stroke to his ego as well as his cock and Nick’s already got an ego bigger than a dominatrix's dildo so it’s easier to kiss Harry then let him continue.

Nick is moaning into Harry’s mouth by the end of the kiss, hips rocking forward against Harry’s hand until he’s coming, spilling all over Harry’s palm and fingers as he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing against Harry’s as he groans. 

Harry strokes Nick through his orgasm, his hand steady until it’s all over and Harry’s hand pulls away, dripping with Nick’s spunk. He watches, bewitched, as Harry pops two fingers into his mouth at a time, licking away all of Nick’s come. “Mmn,” he moans around his own fingers. He pulls them away with a pop. “Missed your taste.”

Nick’s going to bloody kill Harry Styles.

Harry’s cheeks are flushed and Nick presses the heel of his palm to Harry’s cock. He’s spilling already, his cock leaking and Nick smears his thumb over the head. He licks some of it off the nial, grinning at Harry, who watches, his green eyes shining, before spreading the rest on the countertop. “You can clean it up later.”

“Can we go to bed now?” Harry asks, breathy. This is going to be fun.

***

Nick’s got Harry spread out on the mattress, the maid dress forgotten but he’s still got on the panties and the garters. Nick grins, wicked as he unhooks the garters. Harry watches him, unblinking and Nick can hear the rapid rise and fall of his breath. He can hear the soft mewls that escape Harry when he’s like this, pushed entirely to his limits. 

After the garters come the panties and Harry can’t stop talking. “Please, Nick, please please, I really really want to come, Nick, please.” When Harry’s close he talks fast and breathy and it all goes straight to Nick’s cock. (He swears, Harry Styles can make his dick forget he’s nearly thirty.) And “shhs” him with a slow kiss and finally takes off the panties, which have already begun to grow sticky.

He kisses the wings of the butterfly that’s inked into Harry’s skin and rolls his thumb over one of Harry’s nipples. The boy moans and Nick feels his hips roll up and he raises his head. “Not yet Harold,” he murmurs and kisses the hollow of Harry’s throat before finally putting his hand back on Harry’s cock. 

Harry mewls, low and loud. He presses his forehead into the curve of Nick’s shoulder and bites down. He’s going to leave a bruise, but they like brusing each other--especially when Harry might not be here in the morning. He’s begging Nick now, soft pitched and breathless. “Please, please, can I come now, please?”

Nick pumps Harry’s cock again. Once, twice. He runs his thumb over the tip and spreads the precome down Harry’s shaft and bites down on Harry’s nipple. Before finally, as Harry shakes beneath him, he says, “Alright, alright. Go on then.”

Nick’s sure the neighbors hear Harry’s cries but he doesn’t care. Not now.


End file.
